


Two Mobsters and a Vigilante Walk into a Convenience Store...

by CrazyCranberry



Series: Two Mobsters and a Vigilante [1]
Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Daredevil Spoilers, Daredevil – Freeform, Fluff and Crack, Friendship, Hell's Kitchen, Hilarity, Netflix series, New York, it's totally normal I swear, this girl takes no shit, unfazed original character, villain and vigilante frequented store
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-12 12:15:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4478900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyCranberry/pseuds/CrazyCranberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daredevil TV, AU. </p>
<p>Vladimir was fortunate enough to save Anatoly from getting his head smashed in with a car door– the details aren't important. After cutting all ties with Fisk, both brothers are now laying low and planning their one-way trip to Moscow, which has caused them to put their 'business' on hold. Matt is still out fighting crime, and is appropriately surprised that the Russians haven't been a pain in the ass for weeks.</p>
<p>Somehow, both the Devil of Hell's Kitchen and the Thieving Princes of Moscow wind up frequenting the same convenience store. The clerk, Ella, is generally unamused with their visits, but hesitates to turn them in. She can only be held responsible for mopping up blood SO MANY TIMES, but as long as they're buying the seldom touched, BBQ chips...</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(This will be a short fic– I'm trying to limit it to five chapters.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Is that a gun in your hand, or are you just happy to see me?

It was half past eleven at night on a Monday, and Ella just wanted to go _home_. No customers had been in for _hours_ , and the boredom was slowly starting to eat her alive, to the point where she considered ransacking her own shop just for something to do. Her shift (well, the _only_ shift until she found someone to cover the other twelve hours of the day. And found an owner. And a manager…) ended at twelve thirty, and she was counting down the seconds.

She was in the thousands when the bell over the door chimed and two men walked in. They looked rugged, and if she was honest with herself, exhausted. One of the men in particular caught her eye– he must’ve been at least six foot, had a head of blonde hair cropped short, and one long ass scar running from above his left eye to his bottom lip. He didn’t even glance up at her as he entered, heading straight for the liquor section. The other man followed right behind him, running one hand through his hair and muttering angrily under his breath. His brown locks caught the fluorescent light, and Ella thought she saw mocha highlights throughout the strands. _“Pretty,”_ she mused, dully.

Both had strong features and were admittedly very attractive. She watched them with hawk like precision, not out of suspicion (and she was _not_ ogling them, for your information), but because they’d been the first bit of movement she’d seen in what felt like _years_. One of these days she’d go insane– she could feel it.

“Vodka.”

The sharp deliverance of the word had her blinking in shock, before focusing in on blondie who was now staring her down. Her sleep addled mind had her eyes wandering from him, to the refrigerator he was pointing at, back to him. Was that a question? A statement?

“Vodka,” she responded, quirking one brow and standing up a bit straighter. She smoothed down her apron, and pulled her ponytail a smidgen tighter in an effort to be more alert. The man rolled his eyes and scoffed, as if she was a world class idiot, before rephrasing.

“Do you _have_ Vodka?” he demanded, an accent of some sort becoming more pronounced. Ella recognized it to be Russian. The man came to stand in front of the counter, and although he was a good head taller than her, she managed to pin him with a level stare.

“We do,” she said, quickly becoming irritated with his attitude.

“Where?” he asked, raising a brow of his own, simultaneously giving her a condescending smile that rubbed Ella the wrong way.

“I.D., _please_ ,” Ella said, holding out her hand. She could tell that these men were definitely older than twenty-one, but she didn’t like being talked to as if she were a child.

“How about gun instead?” the man stated, and before Ella could respond, there was a pistol on the counter pointed directly at her chest. The brunette seemed startled by his friend's actions (because they had to be friends at the very least, _right_?), and smacked his gun free arm. Ella’s heart had started trying to jump it’s way out of her chest cavity, but she made sure to keep her expression neutral. It wasn’t the first time she’d dealt with thieves.

“Убери пушку, брат. Не стоит так рисковать. Покажи ей фальшивые документы, мы их для таких случаев и сделали," the brunette hissed, as he forcefully turned the man to face him. The blonde huffed for a minute as they stared one another down, before slipping the gun back under his coat. So, they were Russian. That was something, at least.

“I’m sorry about that, my brother has… _problems_ with his anger,” the brunette said, looking bashfully at Ella from under his lashes. She nodded at him, grateful for his intervention, before turning toward the blonde again, her expression hardening as he handed her the I.D.

“Steven…Williams,” she read off in disbelief, quickly checking over all of the additional information. She knew it was fake the moment he’d handed it to her– she would know. She’d made her fair share of fake I.D.’s in the past. But she wanted to be as much of an annoyance as possible. Her mother had warned her about her lack of self-preservation skills.

“Yes,” the supposed Steven said, smiling at her with all the warmth of the arctic tundra.

“Funny,” she said, as she handed it back, giving him a smile of her own, “you don’t look like a Steven.”

“It’s unfortunate,” he agreed, smile faltering.

"I bet," she mocked. His brother looked beyond exasperated, and Ella felt that on a spiritual level. Deciding she didn’t want to push her luck _too_ far, she bent down beneath the counter and retrieved the bottle of alcohol from the private refrigerator. Normally people didn’t ask for something so strong, and usually she wasn’t so inclined to give it. But she wanted these two out of her store– not because one was toting a gun, but because she actually preferred the mind-numbing boredom over blondie’s attitude.

“Nine dollars,” she said, and noticed the look of resigned disgust on ‘Steven’s’ face as he handed her a ten dollar bill.

“It is the cheap shit,” he grumbled, holding his hand out for his change.

“We’re a convenience store,” Ella deadpanned, “and I’m no liquor specialist. Sorry.” She then proceeded to, more or less, throw him back the dollar she owed him.

“Thank you,” the brunette, who’d remained nameless, said, tapping his brother’s arm. Right before they made it out into the night, Ella had to open her big mouth– she was always a sucker for getting the last word.

“It was nice to meet you, 'Steven'. Next time I suggest actually putting the state’s seal on the I.D., and it’s pretty obvious when you change materials halfway through making the actual card. Have a nice night you two,” she said, not looking up, but choosing to bury her head in a random records book she had lying out. All was silent for a few minutes, before the door chime rang again, signaling that the brothers had taken their leave.

Ella heaved a sigh of relief and fell back into her chair, running one hand wearily down her face. She took one more look around at the white walls, took in the silent buzzing of the ancient heater, and eyed the rack of potato chips that were taunting her _dammit_ , before retrieving her purse and coat from the back room. She’d close half an hour early. If they came back for snacks, well, too _fucking_ bad.

“Mondays,” she scoffed, “what would I do without them.” 

 

 

 

 

Russian to English translation: "Put the gun down, Brother, do you really want to take a chance like this? Give her the fake I.D.. We made them for instances such as these."


	2. But, do you believe in maiming?

It was only quarter past ten on a Wednesday night when the man stumbled into the store. Ella was thankfully wide awake, or she might’ve been convinced that she was hallucinating. He donned all black like some sort of disoriented Ninja, and wore what appeared to be a cloth over the top half of his face. “What the…” she breathed, taking in the uncoordinated stranger. The man stumbled down the center aisle, before collapsing onto the floor next to the fruit snacks.

“Uh…Sir?” Ella queried, rounding the counter with caution, making sure to grab the broom on her way. The man groaned, face flat against the white linoleum. That’s when Ella saw the blood– it was leaking slow and sure from a gash on his side. “ _Fuck_ ,” she muttered, dropping the broom to kneel beside him, “hey dude, are you alright– of course you’re not, _but you know what I mean_ – don’t go towards the light!” she said, panic welling up inside her, making her chest tight. “I’ll call 911, just hang in there–”

“No police,” the man ordered, one hand shooting out at lightning speed to grasp her own as it descended towards her pocket.

“No police?! Listen, I can’t have you bleeding out over my floor–”

“Please,” he gasped, working his way up onto his hands and knees, and managing to get himself into a sitting position. Ella bit back her urge to comment on the fact that he was bloodying up the boxed macaroni, and glared at him in indecision for a few beats of silence.

“Fine,” she snapped, more in concern than anger, “no police. Just…don’t die? Okay?”

“Alright. Need to..bandage the wound…I can do it,” the man grunted out, and Ella nodded.

“Right, right, I have a first aid kit in the back,” she said, scrambling to her feet and darting down a side hall and into the main office. She nearly ripped a drawer out of the desk in search of the kit, before finally finding it buried beneath Laffy Taffy wrappers and old invoices. “Got it!” she called out, jogging back, and depositing the kit by his leg. She then ran to the front of the store and pulled down the metal grates that would cover the windows– bleeding, masked civilians tended to be bad for business. She caught a quick glimpse of herself in the glass– she was pale as death, her mahogany hair framing her face and providing a stark contrast of color, the black of her pupil almost consuming the green of her iris in fear. “ _Get it together_ ,” she muttered to herself, before slamming the grates into the sill.

When she returned to the mystery guy, he had already rolled his shirt up and covered the no doubt nasty wound with gauze. An open bottle of antiseptic lay by his hip. “Can you tape the gauze…into place?” he breathed out, sounding a little more lively than before, though not by much. Ella was grateful for the little things.

“Sure, sure,” she whispered, reaching into the kit with fumbling hands for the tape. She ripped off four long pieces, and carefully smoothed them over the patches of gauze he was indicating needed to be taped down. Once finished, Ella fell back and rested against the opposite shelf, watching the man breathe in and out. The mostly steady rhythm helped her calm her own racing heart.

“I don’t think I can convince you…to not tell anyone about this, could I?” he said after a few minutes, turning his head towards her. She had the distinct feeling that he wasn’t looking directly at her, his face tilted just a bit too high for it to be possible. She kept the observation to herself.

“You going to kill me if I _do_?” she asked, partly joking, mostly serious. She was pretty sure she could take him if he tried something…though, he did look to have a good sixty to seventy pounds on her, all of which seemed to be pure muscle. _“Wait, was that a six pack– focus, Ella, now is not the time to admire!”_ she thought, mentally berating herself, and getting back to the issue at hand. She’d go for the wound, she surmised.

“No– I don’t _kill_ ,” he said, as if the very idea was the most vulgar suggestion he’d ever had the pleasure of hearing.

“Says the _masked man_ who stumbles in _bleeding_ with a gash probably earned in a _fight_ ,” she grumbled, eyeing him with distrust.

“I’m not going to kill you,” he sighed, lips tugging down in a frown, “I don’t believe in it.”

“So, now the more important question, is do you believe in _maiming_ –”

“You helped me– I don’t hurt…innocent people,” he said, placing a hand over the wound and pressing down to further slow the bleeding. He breathed in deep, and then, in one swift movement, he rolled forward and up onto his feet. Ella clambered to stand, backing a few steps away, and curling her hand securely around the broom handle. His head snapped her way as if he’d _heard_ the movement. “I’m trying to do good for this city…Make it better. Please.” Ella stared at him for a few more beats of silence, before groaning and stomping her foot.

“Okay,” she spat, crossing her arms over her chest, “I won’t tell. But if you _ever_ stop by here again, you have to buy something.” The man smiled and _“shit, those are some nice lips”_ before he agreed.

“I’ll be sure to buy at least _three_ things, and…sorry about your floor,” he said, mustering an adequate amount of amusement for the level of pain he was currently enduring. With that, he lingered awkwardly for a moment, then left, remarkably more coordinated than earlier.

“Now I’ve got to worry about _Wednesdays_ , too,” Ella muttered to herself, before retreating to the employee lounge to get the mop, “this blood better come out or he owes me new tiles…”


	3. OH, you mean Mr. Sixpack?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and feedback are greatly appreciated!

“We–”

“No.”

“We–”

“Not listening–”

“Our business–”

“ _No_.”

‘Steven’ was glaring so hard Ella wondered if the muscles around his eyes would snap. She could’ve sworn that she saw his right eye _twitch_. His brother sat quietly next to him and did little to hide his amusement– he had already tried to warn her about the ‘potential hazards’ of their acquaintance while ‘Steven’ had used the ‘employees only' restroom. Ella had nodded, and then offered him a bite of her Twix Bar. “Why can I not tell you of business? You _asked_ –”

“I asked about _you_ , not your illegal dealings. Besides, I don’t _want_ to know– ignorance might be best in this particular case,” Ella said, smirking as he groaned and fell back against his chair. Ella managed to scrounge up a few in the back room that were used only for reaching high shelves and for holding unused boxes.

“So, what do you _want_ to know?”

“Well, your real names would be a nice start,” Ella said, quickly barreling on when blondie looked ready to protest, “because I’m not calling you Steven anymore. It’s weird and although you _are_ blonde, you’re no Captain America, _and you just don’t look like a Steven_ , so spill.” The brothers had been to the store a total of six times since the gun incident, and while her and the brunette had a generally amicable time, the words exchanged between her and the blonde were strictly limited to, ‘Steven’, ‘Steven, _no_ ’, ‘ _Stop_ , Steven’, with very slight variations.

“Anatoly,” the brunette offered, extending his hand for her to shake. Ella took it without hesitation– his hand was rough, slightly calloused, and littered in tattoos; he was gentle in his grip, less firm than she would have expected. His signature smirk widened a bit until she could almost call it a smile. The name was soft, in a way– unassuming but memorable, and could easily take on a harder inflection. It matched his personality to the T. She turned expectantly towards his brother. He stared at her for a moment in indecision, before leaning forward and grasping her hand with his own. It was warmer than his brother’s, rougher also, but donned the same amount of ink.

“Vladimir,” he said simply, and Ella smiled. It was a strong name– rugged. It suited him just fine. Not that he was necessarily _rugged_ , but that stubble was fine as all _hell_ –

 _“Get a fucking_ grip _, Ella,”_ she chastised herself, schooling her expression into one of nonchalance.

“Vladimir and Anatoly,” Ella said, the names rolling easily off her tongue, “very nice.”

“Good that you approve,” Vladimir sneered, though it was in good humor.

“Okay, now that that’s out of the way, next question, because I’m a naturally curious person and you’re stuck with me until closing.” Both brother’s visibly tensed at this, shifting in their seats.

“Oh _relax_ ,” Ella scoffed, tapping Anatoly’s shin with the toe of her shoe, “I’m not going to demand your bank account numbers or anything, _but if you’re willing to share that information_ –”

“What is the question?” Vladimir asked, lips lifting a smidgen from their usual flat line– it wasn’t a smirk or a smile, but she’d take it.

“How long can I expect to have your wonderful influx of business?” she queried, shaking her head as she could actually see the tension leave their bodies.

“Why–”

“We…are leaving New York. Soon,” Anatoly replied, cutting Vladimir off, and _no_ , she was not _sad_ , the burrito from earlier was just giving her heartburn.

“Am I honestly _that_ annoying? You couldn’t just stop visiting, but you’re leaving the _state_? Damn, I know I’m occasionally abrasive, but… that’s harsh guys. You’ve wounded me,” she said, clutching the place above her heart with all of the drama she could muster. It was the first time she heard the brothers laugh _together_ – it was a wonderful chorus of sound, if she did say so herself.

“Better things await us outside of this place– no _mudaks_ in masks, anyway,” Vladimir said, and Ella froze, eyes widening. He _couldn’t_ mean Mr. Sixpack…could he? Ella knew she wasn’t supposed to say anything, had _promised_ not to say anything, but… maybe he meant for her not to tell the _police_? Yeah, she’d go with that.

“The mask person doesn’t happen to wear all black…?” she asked, and both brothers immediately leaned forwards, elbows on their knees, anger etched into every line of their faces.

“You have seen him?” Anatoly asked, “has he been in here?”

“Have you told him anything–”

“Has he _asked_ about us–”

“Woa, _woa_!” Ella shouted, putting her hands up to stop the barrage of questions, “this is a _professional_ establishment, gentlemen, and all of my customers have a right to their privacy–”

“But did you _tell him_ –”

“ _No_ ,” she snapped, hands still up in an effort to calm them down. “I didn’t tell him about you, and he didn’t _ask_ about you. Didn’t ask about anything other than the first aid kit, actually. The guy was bleeding out across my floor,” she said.

“That _fool_ put his hands on my brother–”

“As much of a dick move as that might’ve been, you can’t tell me that you guys didn’t deserve to get your asses kicked _at least_ once?” she said, and while Vladimir looked ready to argue like _always_ , Anatoly only shrugged in acquiesce as if to say, “I would still kill Man in Mask, but I can’t say I didn’t have it coming.”

“Does he come here often?” Vladimir inquired, and Ella immediately knew where his line of questioning was headed.

“He’s been by a couple of times, but you are _not_ going to start anything with him,” she ordered, prodding him in the chest with her finger _“and disoriented ninja might not be the only one with a six pack”_ as if that would make her even remotely threatening.

“Why not?” Vladimir challenged, shooting to his feet, “are you _protecting_ him?” Ella quickly mimicked the action.

“I’m kinda protecting all _three_ of you, but I’m mostly protecting my _business_ , because fist, knife, and/or gun fights, between two fugitives and a masked vigilante isn’t exactly good for my store’s _reputation_ , Vladimir.”

“But–”

“But nothing, and if I find either of you lurking around the store waiting for him, or god forbid you ever wind up in the store _at the same time_ and start _anything_ other than pleasant conversation, I will beat you with the broom– _again_.” Vladimir growled lowly at that, Anatoly perched on the edge of his seat, waiting to see how the altercation would pan out. He didn’t have to wait long.

“ _Fine_. No need to risk getting caught, anyhow,” Vladimir finally acceded, settling back into his seat, still obviously peeved, while Ella remained standing.

“Good. Are you done with the outbursts? ‘Cause if you’re not, by all means–”

“ _Enough_ , Ella,” Anatoly laughed, putting a placating hand on his brother’s arm, “we will not risk another encounter.”

“Mhmm…” Ella hummed, putting both hands on her hips, “anywhozit, before I was so _rudely_ assaulted with all of your questions, _and yes I’m aware of the hypocrisy but I don’t care_ , I picked something up for you guys.” She disappeared behind the counter and came out with a very expensive, beautifully designed bottle. The brother’s eyes widened almost comically as it came into view. “So, I know you’re not fans of, and I quote, ‘the cheap shit’ we have here, so I took to Google and tried to find a good Vodka brand. The reviews for this one were pretty great, plus the bottle is pretty. Consider it a ‘going away’ gift, now that I know you’re leaving and all. I originally got it so you’d stop depleting the only stock I have, but, ya’ know.”

Anatoly took the bottle with something close to reverence. “Thank you,” he said, and the sincerity was endearing, not going to lie. Vladimir remained silent, but the smile concealed with a cough was good enough for her.

“Now get out of my store before we all start blubbering,” she said, making shooing motions with her hands and rousting the men from their seats before anyone could turn emotional. “And I’m serious about the broom thing, Vladimir.” The man only rolled his eyes before strolling out of the doors. Anatoly clapped her on the shoulder and squeezed lightly– Ella guessed it was the closest she’d ever get to a hug. The image of either of them actually _hugging_ someone was undeniably weird and she hurried to banish it from her mind.

“Goodnight,” Anatoly said, before following his brother into the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. Ella then began to clean up, mind racing a thousand miles an hour, her thoughts all centered around the Man in the Mask.

“I’ve got some questions for you, Bandana Head,” Ella muttered to herself as she put the chairs away, “ _a lot_ of questions.”


	4. Vigilantism for Dummies

“You _really_ need to stop this–”

“It’s not like I _try_ –”

“No, no, I’m now convinced that you _do_ try– very hard, in fact.”

“I’m _sorry_ , Ella.”

“Don’t apologize to me, apologize to my tiles.” Ella slammed the lid of the First Aid kit closed, giving the masked man a stink eye that would make Vladimir proud. She then went about mopping up the blood as he staggered over to the stool she’d put out. “Three out of your four visits, you’ve been bleeding. Either you’re absolute shit at what you do, or this city is infested with ninjas.”

“Well, you wouldn’t be completely wrong…” he murmured, pressing down on the gash across his forearm, and the sluggishly bleeding cut beneath his lip. Ella just shook her head and continued her work, casting glances at the man every once in a while. “So,” she said, wringing out the mop into the bucket, before giving the floor one last wipe down, “don’t you have someone you can go to when you’re injured? _Besides_ me? I’m not saying I mind _too much_ , but I’m no doctor, dude, and I don’t want you dying on me if you stumble in here seriously hurt.”

“I do have someone– this has just been more convenient lately. Plus, your lectures aren't nearly as terrifying as hers,” the man said, and Ella put the mop to the side and pulled up her chair to sit next to him.

“A _her_ , huh? You a ladies man, then?” Ella said, wiggling her eyebrows. Again, she had the distinct feeling that wasn’t looking directly at her– his face tilted just a smidgen too far to the left.

“Some people seem to think so– but only women of questionable character, apparently,” he said, shrugging.

“Are you saying that I’m _questionable_? Because I totally agree, but wow. Just…wow,” Ella huffed, and was rewarded with a smile. _“Those lips should be illegal, good god,”_ Ella thought, before getting to the topic that she’d been waiting to broach all night, “speaking of questionable, though, I actually have a few questions.” The man seemed to tense at this, but nodded nonetheless. “First, did you actually beat the stuffing out of Vladimir and Anatoly? If so, slight kudos to you, ninja man,” she said, and the man stiffened.

“You _know_ them? Do you work for them–”

“No…no, and for your third, fourth, and fifth question, _no_ ,” Ella stated, “they’re…friends of mine. Sort of. Kind of. We tolerate each other, but happily. It’s complicated. But you’re definitely the guy they were talking about.”

“They come here?” the man asked, and Ella nodded. The man was silent, before asking again, “…do they?” Ella narrowed her eyes.

“Hey…how thick is that cloth? Because I’m really starting to understand why you might be getting your ass handed to you. Can you even _see_ out of that?” she exclaimed, squinting at the dark material. The man frowned, and remained quiet. It hit Ella like a ton of bricks. “You’re _blind_ , _DUDE_ , _NO_ , you’re _blind_ and you choose _vigilante_ work? Please tell me you’re not getting these injuries from wandering into poles or falling into open manholes–”

“There are other ways to see,” he said, clearly uncomfortable with the subject, and irritatingly vague in his answer, “and I can get around just fine.” Ella was hesitant to take his word for it, but didn’t push the matter. She knew when to let things go– usually. Occasionally.

“Okay… next question, _and don’t you frown at me like that_ , I was just going to ask for your name, because I’m getting the impression that ‘Ninja Man’ and ‘Bandana Head’ isn’t doing it for you,” she said.

The man frowned at her right shoulder for what seemed like an eternity before asking, “Will you tell the brothers? I have people I don’t want hurt– you have to understand that.”

“Listen, I’m no spy, and I’m not a _total_ , heartless bitch– I won’t tell them your name, or anything about you if you don’t give the say so. All of my customers are entitled to their privacy, and I threatened them with a broom if they tried anything with you,” Ella said, and the man seemed to let out a long breath.

“Matt,” he offered, “my name is Matt.”

“Matt… I like it. It’s certainly better than Bandana Head,” Ella chuckled, “and by the way, I will not hesitate to beat _you_ with the broom if you lay your hands on Ravioli or Dracula while in my store. Just an FYI so you’re not caught _too_ off guard.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks,” he responded, all dry humor and lazy smirks.

“You should also have it in your mind to get body armor, I mean _jesus_ , you’re already leaking again,” Ella spat, gesturing to the dots of blood that trailed, and subsequently dripped, from under the gauze pad on his arm.

“I’ve been told _that_ , too,” Matt sighed, grabbing another pad of gauze to press over the one that was quickly becoming soaked. _  
_

_"I’ve been told that, too,”_ Ella mimicked, face scrunching up in faux annoyance, “then maybe you should listen? Just a thought, really. Sooner or later, someone is going to really do a number on you, and you’re going to be looking down at your spleen which has exited your body and be like _‘gee, body armor would’ve been a real swell idea’_.”

“I’m working on it– and do you harass the Russians this much, or is your sarcasm saved specifically for me?” Matt huffed out, crossing his arms petulantly.

“I harass Vladimir more than anyone, but you have a special place in the ‘sarcasm’ department of my heart,” Ella answered, patting him on the knee. Matt only laughed, before the chuckle broke off into a slightly pained wheeze.

“Alright, I think that’s enough chatter for one night. Go home, or back to wherever the hell it is you come from, _and get it, because we live in Hell’s Kitchen,_ and try not to bleed out on the way there. I know that’ll be hard for you, but please try.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha.,” Matt said, rising from his chair, “but before I go, if I remember correctly, I said I’d buy something. Three things, to be exact.” He then proceeded to pull his wallet from his pants.

“ _No_.”

“What–”

“Matt, _no_ , seriously? I _can’t_ with you, are your fucking _kidding_ me?!”

“I–”

“No, go home and watch some Batman movies, you need to _learn_ –”

“Watch _what_ –”

“Nevermind, I’m sure they have a ‘Vigilantism for Dummies’– _buy_ it, _read_ it, _worship_ it,” Ella said, all but pushing Matt out the door, “and if you missed my point, _don’t carry around your damn wallet_!” With that, she retreated back inside and collected everything with jerky movements, muttering under her breath. “I’ll order the book for him myself– you know, _scratch that_ , I’ll order the DVD set,” Ella mumbled, practically grinding her teeth in incredulity. That man had a lot to learn about being a vigilante– not that Ella was an expert, but some things were a given.

Ella could later be found doodling the phrase, ‘Matt a.k.a. Bandana Head: Beautiful Cinnamon Roll Too Good for this World, Too Pure’ in the back of an old records book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! The final one will be out soon :D 
> 
> Comments/feedback are greatly appreciated!


	5. Isn't his jacket awesome?

The silence was unnerving. The men refused to speak, refused to so much as _glance_ at one another as they filed into a line in front of the counter. Vladimir’s hand was shaking in it’s grip around the neck of a bottle of Sprite, Anatoly’s head turned almost all the way around to glare at the rack of potato chips just to avoid looking at the man in front of him. Matt was standing as still as a board, looking ready to bolt or attack at a moment's notice. Ella watched all of this play out with the sort of calm that comes from desperately trying to quell violent laughter, her lips forming a tightlipped smirk to keep the giggles at bay. None of the men wanted to cause a scene, knowing that she’d probably ban them from the store (and consequently beat them senseless with the broom) without a moment’s hesitation. No one wanted to ruin it for the other. Plus, all of the men knew that she had on hell of a swing. Thinking back, she probably shouldn’t have jinxed it– after all, what were the chances of them all winding up in the store _together_? _Honestly_?

“That’ll be nine dollars,” she told Vladimir, almost losing it when he dropped the money stiffly on the counter, refusing to meet her eyes. “Would you like a bag?” she queried, knowing full well that he never asked for one. She was going to have fun with this, morality be damned. Vladimir shifted in his spot, obviously uncomfortable, and insanely irritated.

“ _Nyet_ ,” he ground out, and Ella couldn’t help the sadistic smile that spread across her face. “Are you _sure_? That bottle looks pretty heavy,” she nearly purred, delighted when his eyes flashed up to hers in annoyance, then widened in understanding. The look he gave her would’ve made a grown man piss himself. In hindsight, Ella supposes she could’ve taken the look more seriously, but she knew she’d get away with the teasing– tonight. “What do _you_ think, Bandana Head? Doesn’t that bottle look heavy?” she asked, staring pointedly at Matt as both brothers attempted to make her spontaneously combust with their stares. Matt simply shrugged, the motion tight and laughable. She had told each man to keep it civil– she had never set any rules for _herself_.

“My change, _please_ ,” Vladimir bit out, face turning the lightest shade of rosy pink as he fought to keep an irate stream of Russian to himself.

“Sure thing,” Ella said, moving painstakingly slow as she deposited the money into the register and counted out the change. “Nice weather we’re having, isn’t it?” she asked after a few seconds, and she had to bite her lip to suppress a laugh when Anatoly muttered a string of what had to have been colorful curses. When the brothers remained silent, Ella once again turned her attention to the vigilante.

“It’s great,” Matt growled, nearly crushing the bag of chips he had in his hands. Ella looked out of the stores front windows, watching the downpour continue to assault Hell’s Kitchen. “What do you think of Bandana Head’s shirt, Anatoly?” she asked, picking up each coin at a snail’s pace. One of the dimes dropped back into the register and she fought to retrieve from between the slats. Anatoly was the epitome of barely concealed rage as he answered.

“Is good fit,” he spat, knuckles going white as his hands curled into fists.

“Aw, that’s so nice of you! And Ninja Man, isn’t Vladimir’s jacket _awesome_? I mean, I’d take ten in a heartbeat.”

“It’s spectacular,” Matt forced out, through clenched teeth. Ella smiled at him, and she was utterly convinced that he could feel the smugness rolling off of her in waves. She had two mortal enemies compliment each other’s clothes. That may just be the achievement of her lifetime.

“Three dollars and fifty cents is your change,” she said, smirking as she handed the money to Vladimir, who all but snatched it from her open palm.

“Эта садистка сведет меня в могилу. Пошли," Vladimir muttered, turning swiftly and all but running for the door. He stopped when Ella’s voice cut through the waning silence, his shoulders scrunching up near his ears in agitation.

“You forgot your receipt!” she sang, waving the small piece of paper in the air above her head. When Vladimir showed no signs of moving, Anatoly trudged back to the counter and ripped it from her hand.

“You are _very_ lucky girl,” he spat, giving her one last glare that held the faintest bit of amusement, before walking back over to Vladimir and exiting the store. He had made sure to give Matt a wide birth on his way out. Ella would swear to her very last breath that she absolutely did _not_ cry, when a few days later, a scuffed, beautifully made leather jacket, which smelled faintly of Kasha and liquor fumes, somehow found it’s way onto her desk in the back room.

“…And they haven’t killed you yet, _why_?” Matt asked, handing over his credit card. He had always been doubtful of the brother’s self control– mainly over their rage. He was honestly surprised that they hadn’t turned violent. He didn’t think they’d take well to teasing, of all things.

“I’m…not one hundred percent sure, but I think it’s because they know I’m generally amiable about the shit they pull. Or maybe they like the fact that they can talk about me to my face and I won’t know what they’re saying. I’d say we’re friends, but it’s my weirdest friendship to date,” Ella said, which mildly impressed Matt. It did nothing to quell his curiosity, or his concern, but he was impressed. Vladimir and Anatoly actually had a mostly civil relationship with a normal, law abiding citizen.

“You know what their ‘business’ is, _was_ , right?” Matt asked, as he re-pocketed is card, and opened up the bag of chips.

“They tried to tell me, but I didn’t want to know– _don’t_ want to know. It’s their business, no pun intended,” she responded, and then, “also, I just shrugged. FYI. To let you know. Because I’m considerate.” Matt cracked a small smile at this, before turning and walking for the door, listening to make sure the brothers weren’t outside and ready to jump him. “Receipt!” Ella called from behind him, and he honestly laughed at that, but ignored her, and headed home. Ella could later be found on the floor behind the counter, unabashedly cackling like there was no tomorrow. “It sounds like the beginning of a bad joke,” she chuckled to herself, “two mobsters and a vigilante walk into a convenience store…”

 

 

(Russian translation: This sadistic woman will drive me to my grave, Anatoly. Let's go.)

**Author's Note:**

> My first Daredevil fanfic. Please tell me if the Russian is wrong! I tried to find a good translator, but it may be incorrect. Otherwise, please enjoy! :)


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